


Blood Mutants

by Stegosaur



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Drug Use, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9883676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stegosaur/pseuds/Stegosaur
Summary: New York is awash with mutants, and nobody knows why. You meet the brothers behind the 'plague'.





	

New York had seen an increasing plague of mutants over the past several years, leaving most of humanity disturbed at the sudden threat to their continued, pure existence. No other city had this issue other than New York, and nobody could figure out as to why, or how. Mutants took the places of ordinary people, but had no memories of how they were turned. The strangest part was, despite their shocking new appearance, they ultimately caused no trouble, and weren't limited to a specific demographic of people or region of the city. The Chief of Police showed up to work one day as a mutant buffalo, and saw no problem with this sudden transformation. A Wall Street Executive returned from the Hamptons as a mutant tiger, much to the surprise of his staff. A poor family of migrants from Africa turned up one day as a pride of mutant lions, nothing else having changed.

The US Government was loathe to place restrictions on the mutants, either. Even though they dominated the headlines with fear and mystery, only a handful of isolationist regimes actually banned their presence in their countries, and the US didn't dare stir that pot unnecessarily following the fallout from their prior President's wild nationalist kick. They were permitted to travel beyond the city if they could prove their citizenship and birth, and despite the severe change in DNA structure from mutating, every single one of them could prove their existence and nationality through paperwork and questioning alone. It was frustrating for authorities to be powerless in the face of such substantial changes, especially with a fearful populace at large, but nothing had tipped the scale to flashpoint yet.

You had no problems with mutants, however. In fact, you reveled in this sudden change in the status quo, in the normative masses being confronted with the reality that they're nowhere near as special, unique, or alone as they're programmed to believe. It's hard to feel empowered when you're staring down a mutant lizard in a conference room, after all. So rather than cower and fear, you embraced it with unrivaled passion, a passion that brought you face to face with a mutant turtle known only as 'The Jester' in the dim light of a night club's VIP area, whisked away by his soft hands within moments of braving the zoo. Neon face paints accented his eyes, mouth, and shell, his body naked except for a royal purple cape and an orange belt around his waist, a leather pouch dangling from its side. Stealing you from the public eye, he spent his time tracing his fingers over your chest like he was reading Braille, memorizing the form of your body beneath your clothes. He said you were special, lovely, but missing something important to your identity. Your voice hitched in your throats as his lips pressed against your cheek like a soft pillow, his eyes searching yours for compliance before slithering down to your neck and biting it with his blunt teeth, the shiver running down your spine paralyzingly you in his tender grasp. He retreated after a moment of tension and gazed deep into your eyes, past their infinite black and into your very soul, searching for something tucked within.

"Will you let me make you whole?" His voice was like candy to your ears, sickeningly sweet and unbearably irresistible, your head nodding even as you struggled to speak. He dipped a finger into his pouch and withdrew it just as quickly, a glittery substance coating the skin like gloss. That thick digit smeared it over your lips before pressing past them and into your mouth, the substance bitter, yet not unpalatable, withdrawing from your jaw and into his own, the turtle churring delightfully as he sucked the finger clean. The gloss tingled at your mouth and lips in a strangely reassuring manner, the Jester smiling coyly before pressing his lips to your own in a firm yet tongueless kiss, your body melting within his grasp like a burning candle. "I love this part. Come on." He tugged at your arms like a child dragging their parent, your body complying even as your head spun, the world along with it. Doors opened and closed as noise rose and fell around you, the paint on the Jester's shell and his shiny cape dazzling your eyes like fireworks. The posh club gave way to industrial halls and dank basements, though your euphoria stayed elated and constant throughout the trek. The narrow hallway eventually opened back up into a large space, the Jester stopping just inside as another turtle strides right up to you, a bright light shining in each of your eyes as they grab your face with medical precision. The clang of metal rattles and echoes behind you before the Jester bounces back into view, a bright smile on his face. "Think they'll work for you, Donnie?" You don't know who this person is at first, your mind increasingly hazy as you're guided by the two of them to a chair, the Jester giving you a playful shove into it while the other turtle begins strapping you down, your body too weak and entranced to resist or protest.

"They'll do nicely. Go get a sample from one of the pigs." The olive skinned turtle spoke, his name on the tip of your increasingly numb tongue.

"You mean our brothers? That's not nice, Donnie." The tone was jovial yet a little hurt as Jester bounced off from view again, the sound of lustful moaning and vacant groans barely audible from somewhere behind you. The other turtle doesn't speak to you as he readies some sort of gun and wipes a patch of your neck clean, the flesh still sensitive from the bite earlier in the evening.

"Hurry up, Mike! My contact anesthetic doesn't exactly last forever." The olive turtle shouted, the Jester flouncing back beside him from the opposite side he left, a vial of red liquid between his fingers. "Thank you. Which pig did you use?"

"Leo. They're too perfect to alter." The brightly-decorated turtle cooed at you, his tongue dragging along your cheek. "I just had to give him some medicine first. Poor thing is still lucid."

"Yeah, well, this is for the best." The olive turtle screwed the vial into the gun along with another vial of glowing green liquid, snapping his fingers angrily at Jester. "Where's the animal sample?"

"You're holding it." The Jester grinned widely, grabbing the other turtle's wrist and leveraging the injection gun against your neck, the cold metal pressing tight against the bare skin. "They're going to make a great spouse." You groaned at that phrase as memories began to flood to the forefront of your mind of conversations past, a self-professed mutant going by the name of a renaissance artist online. You'd talked - a lot - and he wanted to meet you so badly. You remember the gifts, the ring, the proposal.

"Seriously? That's who you've been talking to?" The olive turtle finally expressed some doubt about the procedure, a sharp prick at your neck accompanying the hasty emptying of the two vials of liquid, a warmth rushing through your flesh as it permeated your blood and muscle. "I hope you're not making a mistake."

"No way, bro." The Jester peered into your eyes as darkness began taking you, that previously jubilant smile and deviant expression now a simple, warm, compassionate grin. "We're perfect."

The buzzing of your alarm clock roused you from sleep, bones cracking and popping as you stretched out in bed. Your skin felt tight and flushed from sweat and the warm sheets of your bed, your slender shell covered in the stink of cigarettes and sex. You would definitely need to shower, but not before spending time tucked under the sheets and browsing your phone. You grumbled as the fingerprint sensor malfunctioned against your thick thumb, the forest green skin contrasting the inky black of the new device. You punched in the password carefully, the keyboard clearly calibrated for smaller fingers than your own, and were greeted with a single voicemail from your boyfriend. A smile spread across your face as you hit play, his bubbly voice emanating from the speaker.

"Hey babe, I hope you slept well. Why don't you swing by The Zoo this afternoon? I want you to meet your brothers-in-law." You smiled with excitement at the prospect of meeting his family, your finger brushing across his portrait attached to the voicemail contact. A few taps and swipes later and you were back in the text message application, banging a hasty response out to him.

"Let me shower first. See you tonight, Michelangelo."


End file.
